


Stay

by FreeShavocadoo



Category: HiGH&LOW (Movies), HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of alcohol, mainly fluff, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 18:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15564177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeShavocadoo/pseuds/FreeShavocadoo
Summary: Masaki lets his alcohol-fuelled confidence do the talking and for once, it pays off.





	Stay

It would be easy, Masaki thinks, to get lost in this feeling entirely.

It had never been easy trying to let his emotions be at the forefront, with an older brother who had been relatively muted in his emotional range unless something further was required and a younger brother who had a fluctuating temper and awful coping mechanisms. Although, Masaki is sure Hiroto had only learned to have those terrible coping mechanisms from him. Takeru just tended to keep his mouth shut and deal with things himself, something he’d sadly not managed to pass on to either of his brothers before his death. Being embroiled in a massive conspiracy was a welcome relief in many ways, no longer having to sit still and let everything wash over him the way it does in his quiet moments, creeping and all-consuming. When he was fighting he was truly alive in many ways, not burdened by feelings of guilt and loss or emptiness, just in the moment and rolling with it all. Everything had pulled through somehow and it was great, until it got quiet.

 

_The bar was relatively quiet, only a few people minding their own business drinking at an even pace, just the way Masaki liked it. Far enough away from areas where people knew him well but not so far that it would take too long to get back. Trouble followed the Amamiya’s everywhere after all, so it was only appropriate to still take certain precautions regardless of Hiroto’s whereabouts or the current ‘peaceful’ climate. The burn of the whiskey down Masaki’s throat is a welcome and familiar feeling, not wanting to waste further hours trying to drink beer when he could get the familiar haze of drunkenness on the tip of his tongue in half the time with Whiskey._

_“Starting early?” Masaki’s head snaps to his left, where a familiar mess of hair and one visible silvery-blue eye is staring at him, Kohaku’s relaxed posture indicating he was probably sitting there a lot longer than Masaki had noticed, with a drink already in front of him._

_“Aren’t you?” He replies, his tone much lighter than he felt, never one to indicate his feelings accurately through expressions or speech, too used to the ease with which he had taken to deceiving others into thinking this was his genuine temperament. Not that he wasn’t happy or full of laughter, just that he didn’t actually feel the need to be all the time. Some habits are hard to break, though._

_“It’s after twelve o’clock. Not that early for me.” Kohaku replies, sipping from his beer, his eyes unreadable._

_“Well then you’ve answered your own question, haven’t you?” Masaki takes another swig, closing his eyes momentarily before feeling Kohaku’s gaze in his direction, always somehow knowing when those beautiful eyes were on him._

_“Hiroto is worried about you.” Kohaku’s voice is quiet, his tone gentle. It somehow makes Masaki simultaneously want to hit him and hug him at the same time, a conflict he finds continuously with Kohaku. He never quite knew if he wanted to kill the man or kiss him._

_“Oh yeah?” Masaki can hear the indifference in his voice, the attempt to cover up his vague annoyance at being treated similarly to a child. Hiroto may mean well by speaking to Kohaku of all people about him, but that didn’t make it any better for Masaki. “Well he’s got nothing to be worried about but thanks anyway.”_

_“You know,” Kohaku turns fully, now facing Masaki, his knees bumping against Masaki’s left leg, “if you were to say that to anyone else, maybe they’d believe you. You might have even convinced yourself.”_

_Kohaku moves the bottle away from Masaki when he attempts to pour himself another drink, throwing the money to the bartender and passing them back the bottle, the bartender walking off with both without even asking Masaki if he wanted to keep the bottle, clearly trusting Kohaku’s authority on the matter more._

_“But you can’t fool me.” Kohaku finishes, his eyes practically burning holes into Masaki’s head._

_“That’s nice, Kohaku-san.” Masaki’s tone is dry as he stands from the bar stool, putting his jacket on a little slower than usual but still with relative ease, side stepping Kohaku when he stands up as well. Masaki assumes this is the last of his counselling session when he exits the bar at a slightly sluggish pace, never liking the fact he has to walk but not being idiotic or selfish enough to ever attempt riding his motorcycle when drunk. Then footsteps behind him make him hyperaware, lunging into the attempted assailant and pushing them into a chain-link fence with his forearm against their neck before seeing the eyes that seem to haunt his every waking and sleeping moment staring back at him. Kohaku’s hand moves up and grabs onto Masaki’s wrist, his grip barely there but enough to move Masaki’s arm back by his side._

_“Careful.” He breathes out and Masaki is certain the hair on the back of his neck isn’t standing on end because of the cold, shivering ever so slightly before stepping backwards and away from Kohaku._

_“I don’t need escorting home.” Masaki shakes his head, continuing in his walk and trying to ignore the anticipation building inside of him as Kohaku’s footsteps follow him, close enough to be heard clearly but not close enough to be standing right beside him. Maybe he’d be lying a little if he said he didn’t want Kohaku to come closer._

_“You sure about that?” Kohaku’s voice has an amused tone to it when Masaki stumbles before steadying himself, turning to give Kohaku a scathing stare before breaking out into a huge smile. Kohaku’s eyebrow raises, Masaki wondering how many times he can get lost in the same pair of eyes before he’s too deep to return. Maybe he already is._

_“Yes, I’m sure.” Masaki whines, not being able to stop the desperation from seeping into his voice, wanting nothing more than to be lay in his bed and left alone to his own thoughts. Even though he knows the last thing he actually needs or wants is to be left alone. Before he can try to put this into drunken words, however, Kohaku’s strong arms sweep him up off his feet, carrying him like a newlywed bride down the dimly lit street._

_“This is a little bit emasculating.” Masaki complains, still fisting his hands into Kohaku’s shirt though, revelling in the warmth that he seemed to radiate, resting his cheek against Kohaku’s chest and closing his eyes._

_“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet.” Kohaku’s voice is soft but firm, giving Masaki’s thigh a squeeze that has him second guessing his half-asleep state, his eyes now wide open and looking anywhere but up at Kohaku. Masaki is sure Kohaku was trying to cover up his amusement, but the small chuckle is just about audible anyway, yet thankfully he says nothing further on the topic. The walk is thankfully rather short to Masaki’s apartment, though the walk up the stairs requires much more finesse. He wonders how many times Kohaku has done this and for whom he’s done it, though he is more thankful than anything. These stairs had conquered him more than once when he’d been drinking in the past._

_“Keys.” Masaki yelps suddenly, Kohaku jolting and giving him a disgruntled look when Masaki thrusts the keys out to him, too sleepy to be aware that suddenly yelling to someone who always has to look over their shoulder may be a poor choice._

_“Idiot.” Kohaku murmurs under his breath as he manages to still juggle Masaki and open the door at the same time, albeit a little slower, finally getting it open and manoeuvring inside. He manages to shut the door behind himself, barging into Masaki’s room under Masaki’s directions, putting him on the bed gently._

_Masaki isn’t sure what possesses him to keep his fingers gripping onto Kohaku’s shirt, to pull Kohaku down with such force Kohaku falls on top of him, only stopping from headbutting Masaki by dropping his hands down to hold his weight up either side of Masaki’s head. Before he can move, Masaki wraps his arms around Kohaku’s neck, sliding his fingers into Kohaku’s longer hair and practically whining against his jaw before kissing him. Masaki knows it’s sloppy, he’s had a little to drink and even though he’s not blind-drunk he’s also not sober, yet Kohaku kisses him back. It’s more timid than Masaki expected yet he’s still kissing back, which is more than he’d expected to get in the first place. When Kohaku pulls back, Masaki can’t hold back the whine that builds in the back of his throat, holding onto Kohaku’s cheeks still and moving his own head back down onto the bed with an exasperated sigh, glaring at Kohaku like it’s his fault. Which, Masaki thinks, it is._

_“Not like this.” Kohaku whispers, his voice raspy in a way that has Masaki more impatient than he was seconds ago, which is an impressive feat. “It wouldn’t be right, to do it like this.”_

_“I’m not drunk, Kohaku.” Masaki sighs, flinging his own jacket off and standing up to undress, noticing the way Kohaku’s gaze averts away from him as he changes into a pair of pajama bottoms before sitting back on the bed. “You can barely even look at me.”_

_“You’ve been drinking. It’s- I wouldn’t feel right.” Kohaku replies honestly, leaning over to run his fingers through Masaki’s hair, pushing it back from his face and placing a kiss on his forehead that somehow has Masaki’s cheeks burning more than the kiss they’d shared earlier. He doesn’t think he’s ever known such a tender touch from a man, especially one he’s managed to get into his bedroom when he’s drunk and moderately horny. “It’s not that I can’t look at you. It’s that if I do, I won’t want to look away.”_

_“You can’t just say shit like that.” Masaki practically pouts, his cheeks still pink and his arms folded. Kohaku commits the image to memory, Masaki with tousled hair and a pout, blushing because of **him.** “You could stay. If you wanted.”_

_“Okay.” Kohaku replies, taking his coat off and knowing better than to correct Masaki by saying, ‘you mean if **you** want it.’ By the time he’s kicked his shoes off Masaki is already stretching out across the bed before moving to the side for Kohaku, instantly melding to his side when he lies down, a leg over him and an arm around him. His head rests on Kohaku’s chest comfortably, his eyes drooping._

_“G’night, Kohaku.” Masaki whispers sleepily, soft snoring following not long after._

_“Goodnight.” Kohaku replies quietly, watching him with a fond expression._

The feeling of Kohaku’s arm around him is comfortable, always the one who fell asleep last and woke up last. It’s been months since the first time he fell into Masaki’s bed, albeit not in the way Masaki had envisioned. Then again, most things about Kohaku defied his expectations entirely in the best way possible. Waking up with Kohaku’s chest against his back shouldn’t still incite the same feeling of warmth that it did the first time, yet it does, the arms around his waist only succeeding in making him fall deeper than he already was. He knows it’s usually at this point he’s in the kitchen making them both cups of coffee, bringing it in for when Kohaku wakes up. Yet he can’t bring himself to move this morning, so content with being held like this that it’s next to impossible to even consider moving away from Kohaku now.

“Mornin’.” Kohaku’s voice is rough from sleep, his breath tickling Masaki’s neck. He moves his arm momentarily to lift his hand and rub at his eyes, circling them back around Masaki again.

“Morning.” Masaki turns to face him this time, moving his hand onto Kohaku’s cheek with a fond look, Kohaku blinking sleepily at him, flushing a little at the way Masaki was staring at him, as though Masaki could help it.

“What is it?” He says gruffly, his hand at Masaki’s waist tracing circles against his hip, so familiar and intimate in the way only Kohaku could be, for Masaki.

“Nothing. Just been thinking.” Masaki replies evenly, nuzzling his head against Kohaku’s neck, kissing it and moving his head back up to stare at Kohaku, kissing him once and pulling back.

“That’s dangerous.” Kohaku replies, seemingly disgruntled by Masaki’s quick and barely-there kiss, although he smiles a little anyway, his eyes crinkling in a way that made Masaki’s stomach twist and the butterflies start all over again. As if Kohaku’s knows this is the case, he moves his hand up to cup Masaki’s cheek, running his thumb down it, staring with unabashed affection. He leans in slowly and kisses with deliberate movement, his hand moving now to the back of Masaki’s neck. Masaki can barely sigh loud enough with Kohaku barely moving away to intake any air, though when he does he smirks a little.

“Stop smirking, you asshole.” Masaki rolls his eyes at Kohaku but can barely stop the smile that spreads across his face, so wide it should probably hurt. Kohaku takes his hand and moves it upwards, kissing his fingers. He then moves Masaki’s hand to rest over his heart, lacing their fingers together. Whilst never traditionally a romantic, Masaki can’t lie about the way his heart skipped and his breath shortened, squeezing Kohaku’s hand in response. The moment was perfect, up until the bedroom door is slammed open.

“Who carries on eating my _leftovers_?” Hiroto seethes, not bothered in the least by the sight of Masaki curled up beside Kohaku, especially since he’d banged on the wall on more than one occasion when Masaki was being his usual obnoxiously loud self during sex. Not that Hiroto had ever cared about the situation when it came to telling Masaki to shut up, or scold him.

“Not me.” Masaki smiles sweetly, hiding his face in Kohaku’s shoulder to laugh, Kohaku shaking a little as well.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny, because-,” Hiroto’s voice is rising steadily before he’s interrupted by a familiar slow drawl and the smell of smoke, Tsukumo reaching out to pull Hiroto backwards into his arms and shut Masaki’s door once more. Masaki can only hear one lingering sentence before Tsukumo evidently drags, or most likely, carries, Hiroto away from their door.

“Just leave them be, I’ll cook something for you later.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I've been meaning to write for this pairing for a while but never got round to it, but we are here, finally!


End file.
